Cat and Mouse
by Ms.ChanningTatum
Summary: He can remember the exact date and time it started. This game of theirs. And he knows that no matter what he says, he doesn't want to stop playing. SLASH! Bumblebee/Barricade, will have play with holoforms in future.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **So this is my first story in awhile. But I thought of this plot, and I just had to write it. Let me know what you think please!

**A/N(2): **I was suprisingly unhappy with the way this chapter turned out, so I had to completely edit it. I think there wasn't enough slash in it for my tastes. So here's the edited version. Reread it, because it is so much better than the first version. Let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: I do not own _Transformers_ or any of its characters.

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Chapter 1

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The first time it happened, he was out patrolling Sam's neighborhood.

He had caught a tiny blip of Decepticon activity on the very edge of his radar just before midnight. Well, that was the official excuse he used to justify leaving Sam's garage in the middle of the night.

In reality, he just needed to shake out the kinks in his wiring and circulate some fresh air through his vents to clear out the dust. Sam had kept him stuffed in his garage for the vast majority of the day, so it really wasn't his fault for feeling incredibly antsy. Sam hadn't needed him for a ride or anything, and Optimus had no new missions for him, so he sat and recharged all day, leaving him with all this unspent energy.

The blip on his radar was so small and insignificant; he didn't even need to bother checking it out. But he was thankful anyway for the excuse to leave the claustrophobic garage.

Bumblebee slowly weaved through the twisting streets of the sleeping neighborhood, stretching out the cramps in his body while keeping a fraction of his attention on his scanners. Small neighborhoods were good and all, but what he wouldn't give for a few miles of straight, flat blacktop to tear up right about now. He had all this pent up energy, and nothing to do with it.

His scanners remained empty and his radars stayed silent for the next hour of patrolling. He was right about the blip; it turned out to be nothing. The streets were quiet, and he hadn't passed a single car the whole night. But just the thought of going back to that airtight garage made his engine stutter and his wheels lock up.

Instead, Bee found himself moving farther and farther away from Sam's house and into a different, shadier neighborhood. The houses here were more rundown than the ones in Sam's neighborhood, and the majority of the houses had 'FOR SALE' signs bent at odd angles in the front lawn. As he kept driving, he saw that some of the houses were obviously abandoned, if the front door standing wide open and a couple of smashed windows here and there were any indication. This neighborhood gave off the impression that it didn't care about preventing against crime or having any type of security.

Or if someone made a lot of noise driving down the street at ridiculously high speeds at one in the morning.

Bee turned the corner onto a narrow street, kicked into gear, and hit the gas pedal. His engine roared to life, releasing a huge burst of energy and he shot down the street at a speed that would have Optimus lecturing him for weeks, his backend fishtailing a little before straightening out. He opened all his windows so he could feel the cool night air rush through him, filling him with the thrill of driving recklessly, his spark humming with the exhilaration.

Sam was all for letting Bee speed down the highway when it was just the two of them. Apparently there was an unspoken rule to drive ten miles over the speed limit anyway. Optimus Prime, on the other hand, only cared about the written rules, and preferred it if the Autobots stayed five miles _under_ the speed limit to not attract unwanted attention from anyone. Bee usually didn't mind it very much, but he loved those moments when Sam gave him free reign and told him to hit the pedal to the medal. Going fast is what he loved, what he was great at. He always felt his control heighten when his speedometer climbed high.

Bee down-shifted and hit the brakes before turning a rather sharp corner. His wheels screeched and the smell of burnt rubber filled the air as he drifted around the corner before pulling out onto another narrow street. This street looked like it had been repaved recently, which was odd for this run-down neighborhood, but Bee raced forward with a new sense of vigor, loving the friction of the smooth surface on his wheels.

As he raced down the street and down-shifted again to turn another corner at a not-so-legal speed, bright red and blue flashing lights from behind him caught his attention. His hydraulics froze for a heartbeat before he remembered to turn the corner. While drifting through the corner, Bee checked his scanners. Yep, definitely a cop car. Sam was going to _murder_ him. He quickly glanced at his speedometer. Ninety-four. Scratch that, Sam was going to hit him with a wrench a couple of times and then tell Optimus, and _Optimus_ was going to permanently offline him. He would probably order Ratchet to disassemble him and make Ironhide use his parts as target practice.

Panic threatened to overwhelm Bee as he gradually slowed down for the cop. He entertained the thought of outrunning the cop for all of a minute and a half. He knew he would win and eventually lose the cop, but he was also too recognizable. Not a lot of people owned expensive-looking cars in this part of the city, so when one shows up people automatically make note of who's driving it. Getting involved in a high pursuit chase would only put Sam at the top of the suspect list. No matter how much he wanted to leave this cop in his dust, he didn't want Sam to be more angry at him than he already would be.

As the distance between Bee and the cop cruiser continued to shorten, Bee got a better look at the cruiser and took note of four things. One, the cop's lights were much dimmer now then they were before, but the cop was definitely closer. Two, while Bee was slowing down from a risky speed to a moderately safe one, the cop was speeding up, with no seeable intention of slowing down. Three, he was absolutely positive that the police didn't have a registered Saleen Mustang cruiser under the number '643'. And four, he was running out of straight road.

Without thinking, Bee instantly shifted into gear and shot forward at an accelerating rate that would make most NASCAR drivers proud, taking the corner up ahead without breaking, drifting dangerously close to the edge of the road. Barricade followed suit, but at a slower accelerating rate, Bee noted with some amusement.

Guess Barricade wasn't built for speed, only strength. He knew that, with a little effort on his part, that he could easily outrun Barricade. Part of him wanted to end this chase right now. But another, more dominant part, Bee realized with a shock, wanted to keep this chase going, to stay just out of reach of Barricade. After all, Barricade had found _him_, not the other way around. He must be looking for some kind of fight. Well, if he wanted a fight, he would have to catch him first.

Bee's spark jumped in his engine at the thought of being caught by Barricade. It was a well-known fact that Barricade loved to play with his food before he ate it. Like a cat stalking a mouse. Or the cat playing with the mouse when he finally caught it. In interrogations, he tended to ask questions _after _he had his fun with the prisoner. Yes, getting caught by Barricade would definately be more dangerous than this little race of theirs. What he didn't know is why the idea of getting caught didn't appall him as much as it should have.

Barricade was less than a hundred yards behind him now and closing in fast. He had switched off the flashing lights when Bee picked up speed, giving up the pretense of being a real cop.

Agitation at his stupidity slowly crept into Bee's processors as he raced down the street. How could he have been so careless? Of course the blip on his radar hadn't been nothing; it never was nothing! If a Decepticon creeped up on radar, even for a millisecond, that generally meant that there was a Decepticon in the immediate vicinity. And he was a _scout_ for Primus sake, his guard never should have dropped. The fact that even now Barricade wasn't showing up on his radar meant that Barricade must have gotten some upgrades since the last time they had a run-in. On his scanner he just looked like a normal Mustang police cruiser, not a crazy, destructive Decepticon.

Barricade was right behind him now. Bee turned sharply onto a wider road, just narrowly missing someone's worn-out mailbox. Barricade turned too wide and smashed his bumper into the mailbox Bee had just avoided, sending wood, plastic, and papers flying out over his windshield and fluttering onto the street. Bee let out a small chuckle at the Decepticon's expense, but it was lost in the sound of their roaring engines. His spark thumped hotly in his engine as he pinged Barricade's private communications line. That human saying 'playing with fire' entered his mind briefly, sending a jolt of _heat_ through his spark before he shoved it out of his processors. He needed to keep a level head.

_Stupid Decepticon_, he mocked smartly, _tricks are for Autobots_. Well, so much for the level head. He felt rather than heard Barricade's engine growl loudly in response. Bee took another turn, this time onto a one-way street. Barricade shot forward so that they were driving side-by-side. He swerved with enough force to crash into Bee, smashing Bee's mirror, breaking the glass and dislodging it from his body, the fragments only holding on by a few wires. Warning signs popped up in front of Bee, but he pushed them aside when he heard a ping on his comm line. 'Mess with the bull, get the horns' popped up from somewhere in his memory banks, but he hastily shoved that away too.

_Autobot scum_, Barricade growled out. _Where are your friends, hm? They're not here to save you now_. Barricade swerved again, but this time Bee was expecting it. He swerved out of the way of the attack and braked, taking another turn off the one-way and onto a narrow street. Barricade attempted to take the turn, but took it too wide again, crashing into another mailbox, sending it up in the air and busting into a hundred different pieces on the street. Bee's spark thumped madly with the thrill and he chuckled at the absurd scene, pinging him again.

_Seriously, where did you learn to drive?_ Bee asked smugly, picking up more speed. Barricade growled and came up behind him. He roughly shoved up against Bee's bumper, jolting Bee forward. More warning signs popped up, but he ignored them. Getting a reaction out of Barricade was easier than Bee had originally thought. Now would be the opportune time to make his getaway, but something was holding him back. He knew Barricade knew that he had no chance of catching him through speed, so why was he trying? What did Barricade stand to get from chasing him all over the place?

_What do you want 'Cade? _Bee hurriedly sent over the comm line, intentionally using the nickname that Barricade hated so much. Even when getting answers, Bee couldn't help but take a little jab at him.

_You Stripes,_ Barricade purred back, _I want you_.

Shock almost froze Bee's processors. Dread, anger, resentment, and quite embarrassingly, _excitement_ shot through Bee as he processed those words. What the _hell_ was Barricade playing at? It didn't occur to him to take Barricade seriously for even a second. This was obviously some sort of plan, but he couldn't figure out Barricade's angle. Bee picked up more speed when he realized that he had eased up on the gas sometime during his shock. If Barricade's goal was to shock him into being caught, well, Bee gave him an A for effort. He still hadn't responded when Barricade roughly slammed into his bumper again. Warning messages flashed infront of him, but he impatiently shoved them away. What the hell was he supposed to say to _that_?

_Wh-what? _Bee finally stammered out minutes later across the comm.

_You heard me Stripes,_ came the surprisingly smug reply, _I know you feel it too. I love a good chase before a midnight snack._

Red hot anger that Bee could not even begin to understand ripped through him, consuming his spark and running like hot liquid fire through his system. A midnight snack? A _snack_? That's what Barricade wanted? Just a slagging snack? He was a highly trained _soldier _for Primus sake, and Barricade only saw him as a _snack_? Well, if it was a snack that Barricade wanted, he would give him a fragging _meal_.

_Eat this, 'Cade! _Bee shot forward with a burst of raw energy, kicking up dust and loose gravel from the street into Barricade's vents and windshield. He slammed the comm line closed, but not before Barricade's last message got across.

A cold shiver ran through Bee, driving away most of the hot anger, leaving behind a feeling of dread and something that Bee didn't even want to acknowledge. Barricade's engine growled louder as he tried to keep up with Bee, but Bee was faster. He swerved and turned every sharp corner he could find to outmaneuver Barricade, using Barricade's lack of speed to outrun him on the long stretches of straight road. His spark was still hammering loudly in his engine when Barricade faded farther and farther behind, until Bee could no longer see or hear him. After a few miles Bee slowed down a fraction and checked his scanners. Nothing.

_The nerve,_ Bee thought hotly as he gradually reduced his speed to a normal neighborhood level and started back towards Sam's house, his spark still humming with energy in his engine. A fragging snack. Not even a meal. Barricade didn't see him as a threat. He saw him as a way to pass the time, nothing more. Bee scowled to himself. So what if Barricade didn't see him as a threat? He didn't see _Barricade _as a real threat either. Why was this bothering him so much?

His spark pulsed excitedly in his engine as he tried to come down from the high. As much as he hated to admit it, that chase made him feel alive. Something, he realized with a sinking feeling in his spark, that he wouldn't entirely mind feeling again.

By the time Bee reached Sam's house, he was exhausted; both mentally and physically. Maybe that race had taken more out of him than he originally thought. Even after backing into the garage and shutting the door, his spark was still humming with the excitement.

He thought about telling Optimus about Barricade's appearance, but quickly dismissed the thought. Barricade clearly didn't show up for a full-scale attack, so he didn't feel obligated to alert Optimus of Barricade's stunt. What he didn't know how to explain was the damage done to his mirror and rear bumper. He would think of some excuse to tell Sam. It would be better than the truth anyway. That would only make him worry. Besides, Barricade wouldn't be stupid enough to try his little stunt again.

As he let his body slip into recharge, Barricade's last words floated through his processors. Maybe he _was _stupid enough to try another stunt.

_You are mine, Stripes. Mine to chase, mine to play with, mine to **eat**. Don't forget it._

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**A/N: **Please review and tell me if you want another chapter :) Otherwise I won't know if my writing is loved.

**A/N(2): **Yeah, I definitely loved this version better. Do you? Please review :)


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Many thanks to my reviewers! You're what kept me motivated to write. I'm so glad that I'm not the only one who loves a good Bee/Cade story. Hopefully mines up to par. Well, here's the next chapter. I am so proud of myself! I cranked this chapter out in a week. That's a record. Disclaimer's in the first chapter. Reviews are wanted :)

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Chapter 2

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When a soldier is involved in a centuries-long war, he gets used to the idea of fighting the same enemies in different battle situations. For the first decade or so, war is very black and white. Everyone knows what side they are on and who their enemy is. But after the third decade, some begin ask questions. What was the goal of war? What was the goal of their side? Did they choose the right side? This period is tinted grey with some blurred lines. Some successfully switch sides, others not-so-successfully. But it really doesn't last long. Because by the fourth decade, war is back to being black and white. And by the second century, its still black and white.

So why was Barricade playing around with a grey area?

This question had passed through Bumblebee's processors at least twice a day since 'The Incident'. That's what he decided to name the chase between himself and Barricade. Because if he referred to it as 'The Chase', then that would lead to him thinking about the chase itself, or about what Barricade said, or about how it made his spark thump wildly in his engine, or about how it revved his engine, making him feel more alive than ever before with the thrill of maybe getting caught...

No. He promised himself he wouldn't go there.

Barricade was the enemy. He had been the enemy ever since the start of the war on Cybertron. There was no blurred lines between them. He had killed many of his fellow comrades, on the battle field and off. He was a cruel Decepticon who was helping take over Earth, completely disregarding human life while doing it. So why did he act like this war was back in the grey area?

It has to be a ploy. What other explanation is there? Maybe mind games were a new Decepticon strategy. Highly doubtful, but still possible.

Bee honked his horn, ignoring the strange and annoyed stares from people walking on the sidewalk. He was impatiently waiting for Sam and Mikaela in the parking lot of a local coffee shop. It has been twelve days and a handful of hours - he could give the exact number, but why bother? - since The Incident happened, and he has been irritated and unsettled through every minute of it. Sam and Mikaela wanted to go out for a lunch date, but settled for a quick coffee run instead.

Well, it was _meant _to be a quick coffee run. Instead, it turned into a slow-drinking coffee sit-and-talk session. They have been sitting by the window in front of him, laughing and drinking their coffee while eating what seems to be an unlimited amount of scones for the better part of three hours.

His patience was seriously wearing thin.

He didn't mind that they wanted to go out and spend time with each other. Honestly, he thought it was cute. He just didn't like how vulnerable they were sitting in a small coffee shop, even if he was right outside. it was unlikely, but this little coffee shop could easily be crushed, or plowed, or bombed, or just completely demolished. And he didn't like wasting his whole afternoon sitting in an over-heated parking lot playing babysitter.

Shame slapped his processors, jarring him out of his thoughts. 'Playing babysitter' was kind of harsh. Okay, it was _way_ harsh. He loved being Sam's guardian. Wouldn't trade it for the world.

But today, he had things to do, places to be, mechs to see. Ratchet had finally received the necessary materials needed to fix Bee's broken voice box; it was just taking longer to fix than he had originally planned. Bee needed to be at the NEST base in an hour for the fourth time in the last five days, but he didn't mind. Too much. He had thought that today would be the first time he made the meeting on time, but apparently not.

He was anxious to get his voice box fixed. Talking through songs and audio clips, while fun most of the time, can become rather tedious and lengthy. He would be grateful when he could finally use his own voice to communicate. Ratchet had it somewhat fixed, but it still hurt to talk, which only added fuel to his terrible mood.

He had thought that his erratic temperament went unnoticed, but his recent agitation has been seeping out into his actions and conversations more than he would have liked. The Incident has caused his patience to be considerably shortened, his temper to flare at the smallest provoking, and his compassion for others' problems to be virtually nonexistant. Oblivious Sam had even started asking him every now and then if he was alright, if something was bothering him, and if he wanted to talk about it. He would deflate a bit and make up an excuse; most of the time it ended up being somewhere along the lines of being over-stressed. Mikaela had questioned his actions too, but it took a little more convincing on his part than it had taken with Sam to get her to stop asking questions.

Right now, they were assuming his frustration was coming from getting his voice box fixed, and he had grabbed onto that excuse with both hands. He knew the real reason behind his dramatic mood swings, but they didn't need to know. They definitely wouldn't take the news well, either.

Bee sounded his horn again, scaring a middle-aged woman walking in front of his bumper. Sam hesitantly looked away from Mikaela and over at him. He sounded two quick, short horns, hoping Sam got the message that it was time to leave. He must have, because Sam rolled his eyes and briefly said something to Mikaela before getting up from his chair. Bee could have jumped for joy in relief, but let out a small sigh instead. Mikaela turned and smiled at him before getting up to follow Sam. They both appeared in the doorway to the shop a minute later, holding hands while walking towards him.

"Sorry, Bee. I guess we kinda forgot about you," Sam sheepishly admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with the hand not holding Mikaela's. "You have an appointment with Ratchet today, right?"

Bee was impressed that Sam even remembered. Actually, it was more likely that Mikaela reminded him before they came outside. She was the one who remembered things like that, not Sam.

When he was close enough, Sam unnecessarily unlocked Bee's doors with his keys. Bee could have rolled his optics. In his experience, some things humans did were strictly out of habit.

Bee trilled faintly, popping both of his doors open for them before they could open them. He just wanted to leave as quickly as possible. When they were safely inside, he closed the doors - more like slammed them, which was unintentional - and pulled out of the parking lot, weaving sharply around cars and through the streets. Sam grabbed onto the steering wheel, but knew better than to try to take over driving when Bee was like this.

"Hey, Bee," he started cautiously, "we really are sorry. We lost track of time."

Be was silent for several minutes before he trilled softly and eased up on his not-so-safe driving. Bobby McFerrin's _Don't Worry, Be Happy _blared through the speakers a few seconds later. Sam laughed and patted the dashboard.

"If you say so, Bee," Sam relented with a smile. He was still chuckling over Bee's choice of song when he started to sing along with the radio. Mikaela, who had stayed silent for the majority of the ride while staring in Bee's side mirror, elbowed Sam in his side.

"Ow!" he yelped, glaring over at her while rubbing his abused side. "What was that for?"

Her eyes never left the mirror. "That police cruiser has been following us since we left the coffee shop."

Bee's spark skipped a pulse. Alarm shot through him as his hydraulics tensed up for a fight, causing him to almost miss the red light up ahead. He would have kept driving through it if Sam hadn't slammed on his brakes, skidding his tires and jolting them to an abrupt stop.

"Bee, pay attention when you drive!" Sam lightly scolded. He turned to Mikaela. "A police car? So what? Maybe he's going the same direction as us." Mikaela rolled her eyes and was tempted to hit him again.

"Seriously, Sam?" she asked incredulously, finally turning away from the mirror to glare at Sam. "How many police cars do you know would follow a Camaro around for ten minutes?"

"Well, maybe he's a fan of Camaros. It _is_ a pretty sweet car, 'Kae."

She shook her head and looked back at the mirror, squinting her eyes. "I can't make out the number from here." she murmured to herself. "Bee, are your scanners picking up anything?"

Yes. Yes they were, but he wasn't about to tell them that. His scanners showed a Saleen Mustang police cruiser sitting idly four cars behind them. No hint of a Decepticon, but he knew better. He didn't need to see the number for confirmation. Fragging son of a glitch.

There was no way Barricade was dumb enough to attack in broad daylight. No way. Not with all these people around. He wasn't brazen enough to risk his whole cover being blown apart in the middle of the day. That was never Barricade's style. Then, Bee realized with a shock, he wasn't here to attack.

He silently applauded Mikaela for being that observant. How had he missed being followed? And why the hell _was_ he being followed? What did Barricade _want_?

_You, Stripes._

Bee shivered at the memory of Barricade's words. He could vividly remember hearing the mech purr over the comm line. He felt his spark jump at the memory of Barricade's purr, sending another shiver through him.

Sam guffawed and swiveled to look behind him. "What, you actually think Barricade is following us?" he remarked incredulously.

_Not you_, Bee thought with a stab of confused annoyance._ Me._

"Yeah, Sam!" Mikaela's voice was just short of shouting, but came out sounding a tad bit frantic. "How many other police cars do we know that -"

"- would follow us without arresting us, I know," Sam finished for her. His hands tightened on the back of his seat, betraying a slight tremble in his arms. He turned around, staring through Bee's windshield. "But then, what does he want?"

The light turned green and Bee shot forward, making Sam's grip on the steering wheel tighten and startling Mikaela into grabbing onto the oh-shit handle on his door.

"Bee, is it him?"

Sam's nervous voice snapped Bee's attention to the Decepticon. Slag. What was he supposed to say?

One of the cars behind him, an old-looking Ford pick-up, turned onto another street, leaving only two cars between him and Barricade. Barricade swerved out into the on-coming traffic lane, passing the new Honda in front of him. Scratch that. Make that one car between him and the Decepticon.

"Not... him," Bee's broken voice came through the speakers sounding closer to static than actual words. He really needed to go see Ratchet. But he had to drop off Sam and Mikaela first, which he certainly couldn't do with Barricade on his aft.

"Are you sure?" Sam asked skeptically. "He just passed a car to get closer to us."

Bee swore to himself. Why did Sam pick now - of all times - to become observant?

Yes. He was absolutely sure that he just lied to the man he swore to protect. Guilt wormed its way into his spark. Bee hated lying, but telling them that the cruiser was Barricade would only make them worry, and probably scare them too. Telling them that Barricade didn't want to harm them - initially, because he would if given the chance - but just wanted to play a dangerous game of cat and mouse with him would definitely freak them out.

They hit another red light. Mikaela whirled in her seat to look out of Bee's rear window.

"I can make out a six," she affirmed, "and I think the next number is a four, but I'm not positive."

"Not... him!" Bee frantically burst out again, more forcefully this time, followed by some colorfully loud curse words in Cybertronian when his voice crackled in the speakers. The high-pitched static caused both Sam and Mikaela to yelp, clamping their hands over their ears.

"Bee!" Sam demanded. "Stop! It hurts human ear drums when you do that!"

Bee had a wonderfully sarcastic reply to that, in the form of a song of course, when he heard a ping on his comm line. His hydraulics tensed and his frayed nerves felt jittery under his armor when he listened to the message.

_Colorful, Stripes. I didn't think a weak sparkling like yourself would know all those curse words. _He could practically feel Barricade chuckling at him over the comm line. His patronizing tone wasn't helping the situation either.

_Go. Away._ He gritted out the message over the comm line before slamming it shut. The light turned green and he accelerated to the speed limit before fully crossing the intersection. Zero to sixty in two point four, he noted absentmindedly. The car behind him was driving slower, but Barricade made no move to pass them.

He just pried his encrypted private comm line back open.

_Remember, you're mine to chase. Let's have a little race, Stripes, _Barricade challenged. _See how fast you are while trying to protect your pathetic fleshbags._

Bee mentally froze. A long-overdue trickle of fear made itself known in Bee's spark, dripping into his processors. He still didn't view Barricade as a credible threat, but any threat made against Sam and Mikaela automatically put some fear in him. No. He wouldn't... would he? The old Barricade wouldn't have risked his cover. But this new, almost _playful _Barricade? He didn't know.

"So you're absolutely positive it's not Barricade?" Mikaela insisted again. The wary tone of her voice forced Bee's attention back on the two humans sitting on his seats. She and Sam were both sitting tensely, trying to recover from Bee's last burst of speed, confusion and worry swirling around them.

"Not... him," Bee's voice box was starting to hurt. Frag. He had a half hour before he was expected at NEST headquarters. He _really _didn't want to be late.

_No, it _is _me, _Barricade purred over the comm line. He must have received yet another upgrade, because there was _no way_ a normal mech would be able to hear his voice through the radio, over his engine, _and_ from a hundred and fifty feet away._ I knew you'd keep our little chase to yourself. Should we show them how we play?_

Bee shivered as he felt his spark heat up, reacting to Barricade's words. Memories of their chase came flying to the front if his processors, memories he has been trying with all his power to keep hidden away for the past twelve days.

But now they all rushed to the front of his processors, refusing to be ignored. The excitement of driving at dangerous and reckless speeds. The anticipation of seeing if he had the speed to avoid his enemy while still staying just out of reach. The thrill of escaping his enemy when he was minutes away from getting caught. The high he felt when he returned to the safety of Sam's garage. The raw _heat _that was left over in his spark. The _need _for that _something _that was just out of reach...

The heat in his spark flared up with a vengeance. His engine revved loudly as he tried to keep his speed under control. Too much. It was all _too much_. He couldn't handle it right now. Oh Primus. He needed to get Sam home... _Sam_.

He used every once of will power he had to focus on the two humans in his cabin. Sam was desperately trying to turn his steering wheel to get his attention while Mikaela was trying to talk to him.

"Seriously, Bee, what's wrong with you?"

Bee hurriedly shoved the memories and feelings to the back of his processors, shutting and locking them in a dark place until he could properly sort through them. He slowed his engine, reducing his speed and coasting with the traffic instead of outrunning them. Buckcherry's _Sorry_ drifted through his speakers in an attempt to calm them. He let a couple of deep cycles of air circulate through his vents before replying to the strangely patient Decepticon.

_This is between _us_, 'Cade, _Bee warned. _Leave them out of it._

The one thing he knew with absolute clarity right now was that he had to protect Sam and Mikaela, and protecting them meant not letting them know it was Barricade. And he couldn't let them to know about their chase. They wouldn't understand. Hell, he didn't even understand.

Somewhere behind him came the loud growling of a revving engine. No. Oh Primus, no. This couldn't happen. Not now, please not now. _Just go away_, he thought desperately.

He knew that if Barricade chose this moment to chase him, he would run. Not run away, oh no. He would run to _run_. To be chased. To feel that scarily wonderful feeling of being chased. He couldn't let himself go down that road. Not while he had Sam and Mikaela with him. But it would be exactly like Barricade to completely ignore his warning. And he only had one card left to play.

_'Cade, no! Not while they're with me! _Bee pleaded.

Oh, there was so much wrong with what he just said. It took every fiber of his being to push out those words. Practically begging his enemy – his fragging _enemy_- to leave him alone, while at the same time giving him an indirect promise of a repeat performance. Fantastic. But if that didn't get Barricade off his aft, he didn't know what would.

Barricade switched on his lights in reply, swerving out into the adjacent lane and speeding up to pass the remaining car between them. His siren pierced the air as he sped up, shooting pass Bee and taking a sharp turn up ahead.

_I'll hold you to that. See you soon, Stripes._

Bee could have sagged in relief as Barricade slipped away from view. His full attention returned to the confused humans.

"See?" he croaked out. Sam and Mikaela both let out a loud sigh and huffed out a laugh in relief, releasing the tension in their bodies and relaxing back into Bee's seats. Suddenly, Mikaela sat up and slapped the dashboard with her hand.

"Bee! You're not supposed to be talking!" she scolded. "You're going to undo all of Ratchet's hard work!"

Sam's eyes snapped up too look at the glowing clock on the dashboard. "And, we made you late. Again," he grunted. "Sorry, Bee."

Bee sighed to himself and resumed playing _Don't Worry, Be Happy_. His spark was hammering hotly in his chest again, and with it came the familiar need of something, anything. Apparently, locking those memories away in his processors wasn't going to make those feelings just magically disappear, like he was secretly hoping. Maybe he would have time to go through them later. When he was _alone_. And not late for a meeting.

Ratchet was going to kick his aft.

* * *

**A/N:** Not as slashy, but the next chapter will be. Let me know what you think :)


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**: Here's the next chapter, and earlier than a week, I might add :) Thank you to all of my reviewers! Review please!

Disclaimer in first chapter. Enjoy :)

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Chapter 3

* * *

**par·a·noi·a**: _noun_: /parəˈnoiə/

1. A mental condition characterized by delusions of persecution, unwarranted jealousy, or exaggerated self-importance.  
2. Suspicion and mistrust of people or their actions without evidence or justification.

Paranoia is the second leading cause of mental disorders in most human soldiers. When soldiers come back from war, they can sometimes have issues adjusting to civilian life again. They may have nightmares about the war they left, keeping them emotionally scarred. This can cause some of them to believe that there are still people out there who want to kill them. They start to think of every person as being a potential threat to their well-being. Sometimes, they believe they are being followed by a threat thy only they can see.

But Bee wasn't paranoid.

He knew with absolute certainty that he was being followed. And he knew exactly who was following him too. Honestly, with everything that had happened to him in the last three weeks, he should have been expecting it.

Ever since 'The Coffee Shop Incident' - again, he had to name it something that would identify the event without making him directly think of the event itself - with Barricade a week ago, Bumblebee has been seeing the Decepticon everywhere. And he means everywhere. And it's not just fleeting distorted glances that he caught for a millisecond in a foggy mirror on a hot day. He constantly had a visual of Barricade and could pinpoint his exact location.

It was very quickly unraveling his already drastically frayed nerves.

Everywhere he went, he saw Barricade. Whether he was bringing Sam to school, or running various errands for the Autobots, or going to the NEST base for meetings, or driving Sam and Mikaela to different places to hang out, Barricade was there the entire time, his presence literally smothering the air out of his vents.

Just two days ago, Bee was bringing Sam and Mikaela to school when Barricade popped up in his rear-view mirror half a mile away from Sam's house. Barricade followed exactly one hundred yards behind him, up until the last quarter mile before the school came in sight. But when Bee pulled into the student parking lot, Barricade was sitting on the grass next to the parking lot - making a show of being a real cop - waiting for them.

It was a sheer miracle that Sam and Mikaela didn't take note of how many times they've been followed by a police cruiser over the last few days.

Bee wasn't stupid. He knew the only plausible explanation of why he could keep a visual on Barricade was because Barricade _wanted_Bee to see him, the fragging bastard. Barricade was a scout, so he could conduct his stalking completely unnoticed if he truly wanted to. But evidently, he wanted Bee to have a constant reminder of their strange encounters. Bee was under enough stress as it was trying to analyze the memories of the race, and all the conflicted feelings that came with them. The last thing he needed was a tangible reminder following him around.

Yep, definitely not paranoid.

Recently, he has taken to hanging around the Autobot base more and more in his free time. At least there he knew Barricade couldn't touch him, couldn't try to catch him, couldn't tempt him into a race. The Decepticon wasn't stupid enough to follow him into the heart of an Autobot military complex. His excuse to Optimus was that he was feeling rusty and wanted to touch-up his training, which was true. He has been feeling rather slow as of late. But it wasn't the main reason for his visits. He was never particularly good at lying to himself.

Bee sighed quietly as he walked aimlessly around the base after his session at the shooting range. Ironhide had asked him to help reconfigure the collaboration on a few of his new weapons. Naturally he had said yes; anything to keep his mind busy. Plus he enjoyed taking out his emotional turmoil on several poor inanimate objects. It had almost been therapeutic, the way the tension had left his body in waves as he gunned down the multiple targets.

But now his tension was slowly returning as he thought about when he had to leave. Sam needed to be picked up in a few hours from school.

He knew hiding in the base was the coward's way out, but right now he felt like a coward, so maybe it was a good fit. At the base, he didn't have to look over his shoulder all the time. Didn't have to check his scanners periodically. Didn't have to come up with excuses for his odd behavior. He got a lot of time to himself, time to think while he focused on tuning his canons and updating his scouting software.

But even those simple tasks didn't completely distract him from the memories.

Every time the memories cropped up, he found himself allowing the whirlwind of emotions to fill him, heating up his body and sending his spark in a frenzy. He had felt so alive while racing away from the Decepticon. And he knew deep in his spark that he wanted to feel alive like that again.

But he refused to acknowledge that. He was in full denial mode. That's why hiding at the base felt so good. If he was forced to confront Barricade, that would mean confronting himself too and making a choice about what was right, and what was wrong but felt oh so right.

Bee forced some of the tension to leave his shoulders and neck as he walked over to the medical bay in search of Ratchet. He still had time before he needed to leave this safe-haven. Might as well make the most of it.

His voice box was completely fixed, but it sometimes hurt if he used it too much. Hopefully Ratchet was in a good mood and could tweak it a bit for him. That shouting match with Ironhide probably wasn't one of his best ideas. The only reason he didn't regret it was because he had won. He smiled to himself. Here he felt like he could really relax - well, as much as a soldier in the middle of a war could relax - for the first time in weeks. No one was after him here.

Which is why he gullibly walked right underneath the giant container filled with motor oil that was strategically placed above the huge door outside the medical bay. His foot tripped a wire that he had - stupidly - not noticed, flipping the container over and sending tons of gallons of slimy oil onto his head.

Bee yelped in shock as the luke-warm liquid smashed onto his head. His arms shot up over his head, trying and failing to shield his face from the oil as a long string of curses fell from his mouth in Cybertronian. He stood there frozen for a minute as the oil dripped off his armor, pooling in the dents and cracks. Hot rage slowly bubbled up in him as he slowly lowered his arms before shaking them out, trying to get rid of the access oil. He so did not need this right now.

From roughly a hundred and twenty two point six feet away, he heard loud cackling bouncing off of the metal buildings. Bee spun around, wiping the oil out of his optics and clearing out his air vents with a gust of air, sending excess oil shooting out. He let out a menacing growl from deep in his chest at the two figures doubled over off to his right. Oh, he was so not in the mood for this.

Skids and Mudflap were crouching behind a nearby building, laughing hysterically with their hands holding their abdomens.

"Yo man, did ya just see that?" Mudflap choked out around his laughing, pausing to catch his breath between each word.

"He was flappin' his wings, dawg!" Skids agreed, laughing hard between words.

"Frag, that was some funny slag right there, man," Mudflap, still wheezing and clutching his abdomen, made a show of wiping a fake tear from his optics.

Skids was still snickering heavily, pushing Mudflap away from the scene. "Ya think he's pissed, dawg?"

"Naw, Bee knows how to take a joke, man. Let's get outta here, though."

"Why's that? I ain't afraid of that dumbaft!"

A black shadow fell over the two crouching mechs. They both looked up at an insanely pissed-off Bumblebee standing three feet away from them, steam rolling off his body and oil slipping off his armor. The twins slowly backed away from him.

"Yo man, it was just a joke..."

"Yeah, lighten up dawg..."

Bee stared furiously at them for a few more seconds before pouncing on them. The twins yelled and tried to scramble back, but Bee was faster. He caught them both by their necks and hauled them up to his optic-level. Bee glared hard at them both and growled out, "Dumbaft?" The twins nervously chuckled, finally noticing how short of a fuse Bee's temper was on.

"Ehe, did we say dumbaft?" Skids started, "Cuz we meant-"

"Hey, what do ya mean we?" Mudflap said incredulously. He pointed a finger at Skids. "You were the one who said it!"

"Ya, well you were thinkin' it!"

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"Enough!" Bee shouted, his temper finally snapping. He slammed Skids and Mudflap's heads together before dropping them on the ground. The twins groaned and held their heads, not even trying to stand up.

"Frag, that hurt," Mudflap whined. Skids groaned again and massaged his neck. He made a noise and quickly pulled his hand away from his neck.

"Aww gross!" Skids exclaimed, wiping furiously at his neck. "He got the fraggin' oil on me! This is all your fault, dawg!"

"What! You were the one who wanted to pull the slaggin' prank!"

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

Bee narrowed his optics before leaning down and slapping both of them across their faces. The twins yelped out and stopped bickering. "Clean up your fragging mess, or so help me I will go to Optimus and have him revoke both of your rights to go on missions!" Bee ground out, glaring down at the two now-silent mechs.

Shouting like that really made his voice box hurt, but his authoritative tone got through to the twins. They grudgingly got up and started making their way to the main building to find some cleaning supplies.

"Yo man, I thought you said he liked jokes."

"He usually does, dawg. I dunno what's up wit him."

Bee stood there for another minute, silently fuming at their stupidity before turning around back towards the medical bay. Every move he made, he could feel the motor oil leaking off him. He tickled a little under his armor where some of it had slipped it's way through the cracks.

Motor oil wasn't bad for them. Being a wholly mechanical being, they needed to use motor oil on an almost daily basis to lubricate moving parts, inhibit corrosion, and improve sealing in their bodies. But it was still very unpleasant to have an entire container dropped on your head and coating all of your armor.

Bee sighed to himself again, gingerly stepping around the huge puddle of oil on the ground in front of the medical bay, trying not to slip on the slick surface. His voice box was aching. Ratchet first, then a bath.

Though Ratchet might kick him out for being this dirty. Actually, knowing the Hatchet, he would kick him out. Bee sighed and turned around, heading out of the medical bay. Okay, bath first, and then Ratchet. If he could even get the smell out of his leather.

* * *

A high school student parking lot is a chaotic place. After their long day of learning curriculum that will become irrelevant as soon as they graduate, it's understandable that the students who drive would want to rush out to their cars and drive as fast as they can away from the school.

So they think, maybe if they run fast enough to their cars, they can beat everyone else leaving. The only problem is everyone has this same idea at the same time, causing a massive pile-up in the parking lot. And it's a well-known fact that it's high school students who have the worst road rage imaginable.

Sam swore rather loudly and slammed on the brakes as yet another car cut in front of him. He flipped off the driver, hoping that the driver could see how pissed he was in his rear-view mirror.

"Bee, don't let anyone else cut in front of us," Sam practically growled out. Bee trilled loudly, but whether it was in agreement or reprimand Sam couldn't tell.

Bee could have rolled his optics as he switched the radio to a local country music station. Sam was one of those students who's road rage reached a dangerous high in the parking lot. Usually playing country music helped a little, even though Sam constantly denied liking country. No matter how many times he denied it, his vitals always went down to a semi-normal level while listening to it.

Though right now, Bee was trying to keep Sam's attention away from the parking lot as much as possible. He was proving to be much more observant since The Coffee Shop Incident, and Bee didn't want to explain why the school has an extra police cruiser sitting at the parking lot exit.

Just like he had been expecting, Barricade had followed him from the base all the way to Sam's school, staying exactly one hundred feet behind him. Bee had chosen to ignore him, mainly because some part of him still naively thought that if he didn't acknowledge Barricade in any way, then the Decepticon would eventually get bored and leave.

But like he said, he was never good at lying to himself.

The tension between himself and the Decepticon was practically tangible. No, they were past that. It reached tangible on the second day of Barricade's stalking. Now the tension was nothing less than a three-foot thick brick wall.

Seeing the Decepticon sit there made Bee's spark hammer in his engine. Barricade was parked on the left side, next to the four-way intersection leading out of the lot, his front end angled to the right so that he could drive away faster if need be.

With a jolt of heat, he realized that he would have to pass no less than fifteen feet from Barricade's front bumper to leave the parking lot. Maybe he would get lucky and Barricade won't notice them. Ha, yeah right. The only reason he was here was because of him. Maybe he could turn around and cut out onto the street over the grass. Yeah, that could work, unless the real cop saw him. Oh Barricade would have a laugh at that.

Sam cursed again, rather colorfully, and slammed his fist onto Bee's horn, sounding three short honks at another car that had rudely cut him off, flipping them the bird too for good measure.

Bee silently cursed. Well, if there was any hope of leaving without alerting Barricade, it was just destroyed. After Sam's little chorus of honking, the Decepticon was definitely paying attention to them, if he hadn't been already.

"God, I hate this," Sam grumbled, his hands clenching onto the steering wheel harder, making his knuckles turn white.

Bee silently agreed, subtly turning up the country music a little louder. Yeah, he hated this to. This tension. He could practically feel Barricade's optics following his every move.

Nine.

His internal scanners had automatically started a countdown of how many cars were between him and the exit since they got in line. This habit formed sometime within the first week of driving Sam to and from school. Then, it was just something to help pass the time, to keep him entertained as well as focused on his surroundings. But now, it felt more like a countdown to his eminent death.

Six. The tension in his body doubled as he came closer to Barricade, consciously making an effort to subdue that fight-or-flight response in his body.

Three. Barricade wasn't visibly reacting to Bee's close proximity, but Bee could feel the tension rolling off his body. Bee's spark was thumping hard as anticipation rolled in waves throughout him.

One. Bee was next to Barricade now, passing exactly fifteen point seven two feet away from him. His processors froze after that statistic. This was the closest he has been to Barricade in weeks, and he could feel the raw power rolling off him. His power made  
him want to match his power in speed. Made him want to run. Made him want to be chased.

A light trilling in Cybertronian shook him out of his daze. He could practically see Barricade laughing smugly at him. Humiliation crashed into him at an enormous rate. What the frag was wrong with him? Why was he this affected my Barricade's mere presence?

Fortunately, Sam, who was paying attention to the traffic and not the police cruiser, turned right onto the street to take them back home. Bee's attention snapped back to his surroundings, specifically staying off of the Decepticon.

The combination of the heat from the sun and the heat created in his engine managed to heat up the residue of motor oil still clinging to his leather. Sam coughed as he got a huge whiff of it, covering his nose with his hand.

"Bee, what is that smell? God, that's disgusting!"

Gee, thanks. He had managed to get the majority of the oil off him, but the oil in his leather had just refused to come out. Ratchet wouldn't help either; he was too pissed about the motor oil left on his medical bay floor. He did tune up Bee's voice box though.

"The twins thought it would be funny to dump motor oil on me," he remarked scornfully, his mechanically masculine voice flowing through the speakers over the country music. Thinking back on it, that joke still wasn't funny to him.

"Seriously? That's nasty." Sam tried to sound disgusted, but Bee could clearly hear the grin in his voice. Trust Sam to find even the stupidest of practical jokes funny.

* * *

For the first time in over a week, Barricade hadn't followed him from the high school to Sam's house.

Sam's constant comments about the prank Skids and Mudflap had pulled had forced Bee to put his scanners and Barricade on the back-burner as he tried to defend himself against the onslaught of questions. By the time they had reached Sam's house, he had astonishingly realized that his scanners had not once alerted him of the Mustang cruiser.

He did a quick sweep of Sam's block. Nothing. Barricade wasn't anywhere within a four-block radius. But instead of the rush of relief he was expecting, he felt almost... disappointed. Bee slowly sank down on his hydraulics as he sat parked outside of Sam's garage.

The tension that had been keeping him on his toes for the last few weeks slowly fizzled out, leaving him feeling strangely unfulfilled and unsatisfied. Why would Barricade choose now, of all times, to stop following him around?

No, Barricade couldn't have stopped following him. He had invested too much time in following him just to abruptly give up. He wouldn't leave in the middle of this, would he?

Minutes ticked by until a few hours had suddenly slipped past unnoticed. Bee hadn't moved from his spot, confused as to what he was supposed to do now. Over the last few weeks, Bee had unknowingly allowed Barricade to become a constant in his life, and his absence was affecting Bee more than it should.

With a jolt of familiar heat, Bee realized that he wanted Barricade to watch him. He wanted that element of danger lurking just outside his radars. He wanted that rush of excitement that came with feeling alive while running from danger. He wanted Barricade.

That wall of denial he had built in his processors started to crack, but he held fast. That denial was safely. Was comfort. He couldn't let that go. No matter how much his spark yearned for the truth, his mind couldn't handle it. Wouldn't handle it.

He realized he had been sitting in the driveway for the majority of the afternoon when the sun began to set, sending the sky into a mixture of vibrant colors. The colors swirled around each other until it was hard to tell where one started and the other began.

Just like his emotions, he mused. Oh wow, look at him. Getting all metaphorical. He wasn't the type to use metaphors. He preferred a more direct approach for communication, which probably stemmed from being a soldier.

As he quietly started his engine to slip into the garage for the night, he caught a sudden burst of energy on his radar coming from a block and a half away. The sudden relief that flooded him consumed him when he identified the source of the energy. He knew Barricade couldn't have just left. That just wasn't his style.

Bee checked to make sure Sam and his parents were safely in the house before backing up onto the street and zooming towards the source of energy. What the hell was he doing? Alarm bells were ringing in his head, but he shoved them away. He was done hiding. Besides, for some reason he felt drawn to the energy. Felt like it was meant for him.

When he turned the final corner, he wasn't at all surprised to find Barricade sitting on the side of the road, seemingly patrolling like a real police cruiser. His eagerness caused a shiver to rocket through him when he saw Barricade start his engine.

The tension that had faded suddenly smashed back into his body all at once. His processors stopped comprehending anything outside of Barricade, hydraulics and gears tensing, preparing for a fight. Or in this case a flight.

Without thinking, Bee accelerated, shooting past Barricade and sending dust into the air. Barricade rocketed forward, catching up to Bee faster than Bee would have thought possible. His spark hummed with new-found fervor as he charged down the street with Barricade plowing behind.

Bee picked up more speed as he maneuvered them onto the highway, subconsciously locating a place where there were less humans. Barricade chased behind him, leaving only a few feet between them.

His spark thumped madly in his engine as he released all the tension in his body into his driving. He felt so good, so madly alive. Everything else faded into the background. All he could focus on was how fantastic this felt, and why the hell hadn't he done this sooner?

The highway they were racing down slowly brought them away from the cities and into the barren desert. Barricade unexpectedly rammed into Bee's bumper, harder and with more force than he had previously. Bee jolted forward, his wheels losing some of their traction on the road, sending his backend into a dramatic fishtail. With his attention on his wheels trying to reestablish the traction, he completely missed Barricade speeding up next to him so that they were side-by-side.

He did not, however, miss Barricade transforming out of his alt mode and crashing body-first into his side. Bee yelped as he was thrown into the air, flipping once before automatically transforming out of his alt mode. He landed gracelessly on his back, skidding to a halt some two hundred feet away from the road. Barricade landed on his feet somewhere off to the left.

Bee groaned and sat up slowly, holding his hand to his head. Warning signs flashed in his processors, showing him how much damage he had taken. His spark was hotly pulsing in his engine when raw anger flashed through him. He could hear Barricade slowly walking towards him, his gears mechanically whirling with every movement.

What the fuck was that for? They were racing, for Primus sake, not fighting! Primus, it would be just like Barricade to change the rules on him like that. Of course, how could he forget who he was dealing with? A Decepticon never plays by the rules.

"Autobot scum." Barricade's deep mechanical voice boomed out, sending a shiver through Bee. Bee, still fuming, waited motionless on the ground until Barricade was within reaching distance before he tackled the taller mech's legs. Barricade let out a surprised grunt as he hit the ground, hard, with Bee pinning his legs.

Bee used Barricade's stunned surprise to scramble up the length of his body, trying to pin him down while holding down his legs, but Barricade was faster. In the blink of an eye, he had tangled his legs around Bee's and shoved at his chest with his hands, successfully flipping them over.

Bee sat stunned as Barricade's crushing weight pushed him into the ground. He angrily stared up into Barricade's face before his processors could catch up with his compromising position. His own optics widened as he took in Barricade's glowing red optics and his wicked grin. Fear lodged itself in his throat, making it difficult to breathe.

He had forgotten who he was dealing with. This was Barricade, a Decepticon, his enemy in a war that was bigger than either of them. The mech who was infamously known for his cruel interrogation techniques, for playing with his food before he ate it. The mech who was currently pinning him to the ground with no intention of letting him get away unscathed.

In a word, he was fucked.

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**A/N: **Ohh cliffhanger! Sorry about that, but the reason for the cliffhanger is because I simple ran out of time to write any more. Next chapter coming in a week :) If anyone has any constructive critisicm, please review and let me know!


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